Not Quite Dead, Not Quite Living
by KingoftheBritains
Summary: Eugene might have recovered physically from his final visit to the tower, but the mental scars that left are still prevalent.


**A/N: ****So this is just a completely random idea I've been playing with, since I apparently can't watch anything any more without thinking about deep psychological impacts. Any comments are appreciated :)**

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Darkness. For miles and miles, only darkness. Eugene squinted, hoping his eyes would adjust. _Willing _them to do so. Still, nothing came of it, and his shoulders sagged. He shuffled his feet, moving around, no direction in mind. What direction was there to take? He shivered, body pale and freezing. Not for the first time in his life, Eugene felt totally helpless. Well, he thinks, it's the first time in his _death. _The thought stops him in his track, and instinctively he inhales deeply, but realises there is nothing to take in. Nothing to breathe out. His now shaking hand reaches to where his heart rests, silent, and now the panic seeps through him. He shouts, _screams._ At first, there's no sound, but then he manages to catch his voice, forming a word. A name. _Rapunzel!_

His eyes having proved useless, other senses begin to gain dominance. Once done with his pointless shouting, his ears prick up. There's a noise, some strange sound. Listening once more, he isn't sure whether to feel hope or dread.

"Eugene?" he hears softly, and he wonders and prays. Walking again, he tries to follow the sound. "Eugene!" it's her kind, cheerful voice playing in the background. His feet pick up, running, racing.

She stands, still as a statue. Back to him, he kneels, trying once again to find his voice. Unfortunately, a sickening, wicked laughter echoed around him before he had the chance. The image of Rapunzel ripped away immediately, sinking from him as he grasped for it. It wasn't her, he knew. Struggling, he screamed. Suddenly, the laughter grew louder, and louder, swallowing his whole being. His fingers dug into his palm, painful enough to draw blood, if he was able. Clenching his eyes shut, he wished for the end.

A gentle hand reached, causing him to flinch from the touch. Scared to look, he held close to himself. The touch returned, however many times he tried to remove it. Opening an eye hesitantly, he gazed up at a new female figure before him. She was not alone, standing with a man, her husband. They smiled down at him, familiar, kind smiles. He sank into the touch finally, forgetting himself for a moment.

"You're not real," he whispered. The two figures never spoke, their expressions never changing, never faltering. The image of peace, of love. They looked as he had always imagined them, showed him love as they always had in his mind, but they were just that – in his mind. Even now, _especially_ now, he sought two people he never knew. "You're not real." He whispered more firmly, shrugging the hand off.

The ghosts growled, eyes now glaringly bright, sharp teeth showing as they jumped at him. Scurrying back, Eugene grappled for any form of faith he may have had in life. The ghosts stayed, persisting, flying above him. The cackling returned. As did so many more figures, offering peace at first, but then attacking.

Eugene screamed, finding his voice straightaway for the first time since the ordeal began. Blinking blearily, he stared straight in front. Darkness, but not complete. There were shapes, not of people, but furniture. Aware of something else, a beating, heavy in his chest, his hand scrambled. Quickly placing it on his chest, he felt the heart loud and clear, beating in a mad panic. Images of his room at the palace now becoming clearer, he exhaled gladly, taking a moment to appreciate just breathing. His hand having fallen from his chest, he placed it back, needing to reassure himself just one more time. Blanket haven fallen from the bed, he used his other hand to pull it back, still feeling some of the cold. Probably all in his mind, but he didn't mind having the extra protection.

Jumping at the sound of gentle scurrying, Eugene scanned his room, instantly afraid he would end up back in his afterlife. Something small hoped on to the bed, and it took a moment to realise it was the chameleon. Rolling his eyes, the ex-thief let his guard down a little. Pascal narrowed his eyes at him, always having been too perceptive for a creature. Eugene shrugged, although the panic in his eyes spoke for itself.

He needed air. Sighing, he dropped the blanket he held tightly to his chest. Pascal moved slowly, too slowly, and got caught up in it. He glared at Eugene through the blankets now draped over him, but man was not at all interested. Instead, he kicked his feet from the bed and picked his heavy weight up, feeling unsteady for a moment. Shaking his head, he tried to stand firmly. As he took step after step, recollections of him walking through the darkness hit him, figures appearing every time heel met tile. Gritting his teeth, Eugene waded through to the balcony.

As soon as he opened the door, wind hit him, a grateful attack. Walking through it to lean over the wall and take in the view outside his room, he inhaled slowly and appreciatively. The moon lit up the night sky, and although all was quiet with sleep, Eugene was happy for the peace to continue. There was no laughing, no lies, nothing to be heard here. He saw reality here, and he closed his eyes peacefully.

That was until he was joined by the ever-infuriating chameleon. Making his presence known to Eugene in their usual way, the man glared at him, tempted to knock him off the wall in frustration. Pascal's rude entrance had frightened him, and he almost fell over from the shock. Afraid he had returned to the awful place. Afraid all of this would be snatched from him, just as the image of Rapunzel had, just as his life had.

Groaning, he rushed a hand through his hair, trying to lean back on the wall comfortably. Pascal, however, had not moved. Eugene was beginning to wonder whether it was worth fighting the temptation to flick the damn pet off the wall. Of course, though, that would just upset Rapunzel, and he couldn't do that. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he wondered when everything had become so _complicated_.

"I died," he whispered in the wind, to nobody. Pascal's head picked up, though, and huge eyes stared at the seemingly desperate man. "I actually _died._" He repeated more firmly, turning a little to acknowledge the chameleon. He paused, briefly wondering if it would appear madder to be talking to oneself, or to be having a conversation about mortality with a chameleon. Either way, if things continued, he may end up at the mad house eventually. Alone, as before.

"One minute, for a minute, I was dead. I don't remember it, any of it, but I remember _dying_." He shook his head, frustrated. Unable to remember anything from his real experience with the afterlife, his mind allowed him to imagine an unbearable one, and it _terrified_ him. Flynn Rider might not have been afraid of anything, but Eugene Fitzherbert was most definitely afraid of dying. "All my life I've managed to escape from anything and everything that came at me, and then I just didn't. I just wasn't there."

Pascal watched him intently, and Eugene found it oddly therapeutic actually speaking about it to someone, even if it was a chameleon. Rapunzel often spoke to her pet, and she was… _quite_ sane. Okay, this was ridiculous.

"I died, and yet here I am, talking to a chameleon." He chuckled a cheerless laughter and was harshly reminded of the harsh sound from his nightmare. It was a dream he had had before, a few times now, but it never got any easier. "And I'm here, in the palace, and I don't know what to do. I feel… _suffocated_. I love it here, obviously, with Rapunzel. Still, there's so much going on here. There are duties to fulfil, and Rapunzel needs me, and Cass. Well, we all know how she feels about me, and I, I can't blame her." Head falling, he closed his eyes in sadness, wondering how many still saw Flynn Rider. "I can't tell Rapunzel about it, because it's not something I want to burden her with, and I don't want to remind her of… of everything. Plus, she can be a little _too _helpful, at times." He grimaced, and Pascal nodded in sympathetic understanding. Eugene loved Rapunzel, truly, but if she knew of his fears, she would stop at absolutely nothing to stop it, whilst Eugene knew that there was nothing to be done. "All I need is some peace, sometimes. To just roam a bit, wander. Live."

Silence followed, Pascal burrowing himself into the crook of Eugene's neck. The man was too tired to shrug him off and found himself strangely grateful for the chameleon's presence. It reassured him of reality, that he was still there, still breathing. The jumping of his heart had calmed, but he could still focus on it, mindful of it beneath his layers. The cold air of the night chilled him, but the gentle breeze only made him more aware of living. It was this, this moment of peace, that he craved. Too tired too fully appreciate it now, he wished for a moment as this in the day. With the sunlight beaming down on him, eliminating the darkness completely, as he strolled through Corona, possibly venturing outside the walls just to take a look.

Shoulder sagging, Eugene yawned, shaking Pascal who had fallen asleep. Eugene rubbed at his own eyes, and ushered the pet on to his hand, pushing him some up the wall so that he could climb through Rapunzel's window just above. Then, tiredly, Eugene dragged his legs across back to his bed, a different weight settling beneath his bones. One of contentment, but some longing. Tomorrow would be a busy day, he knew, but he was happy with Rapunzel. He was living a life with Rapunzel, and for now, he could be content with that. Even if he never got his moment of peace, he always had her, and nobody would snatch her away from him.


End file.
